


Ring Finger

by sebacielfantasies



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, SaruMi - Freeform, a few servings of feels, adorkable otp, all shall be well in the world, but plenty of fluff too, donut worry, lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:33:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebacielfantasies/pseuds/sebacielfantasies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saruhiko's sprawled out on his belly in Misaki's house, playing a game on his PDA, when Misaki asks him about marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring Finger

**Author's Note:**

> \- Based off of two tumblr prompts mashed together to make whatever this even is. XD  
> \- I don't own {K} or any of its characters.  
> \- There's 4 parts to this story, and each one is centered on a certain stage in their relationship; 1) their middle school days, 2) their limited time at HOMRA together, 3) the betrayal, and 4) post-reconciliation fluff.  
> \- Unbeta-ed  
> \- Hope you enjoy!

Saruhiko's sprawled out on his belly in Misaki's house, playing a game on his PDA, when Misaki asks him about marriage.

Having only heard bits and pieces of Misaki's sentence, he looks up, alarmed. "What?"

Misaki rolls up next to him, stretched out on his back rather than his stomach. Side by side, they're close, almost _too_ close; if he moves even an inch in Misaki's direction, he'll probably end up with a chunk of red hair in his mouth.

"Saruuu," complains Misaki, "were you listening to me at all?"

He switches off his PDA, clicks his tongue, "No."

"I said, do you think you'll ever marry one day? Like, do you know who you'd wanna marry?"

The mere idea of having a lifetime full of arguments and crying children with someone he's supposed to call his "wife" almost makes him nauseous. And, he thinks, it's not like he can stand anyone in this society except Misaki. "Not happening," he says.

"Aww, is Saru bad with the ladies?"

"At least I can look at a girl without stammering every other sentence."

"H-Hey! Not true!" Misaki whacks his back with a nearby textbook, "That was one time, geez!"

"More like a hundred."

Misaki groans, and he sounds so fed up that Saruhiko has to smile. "W-Whatever! The point is, I can really imagine it, y'know? Getting married, I mean."

For some reason, Saruhiko's not liking this conversation. He'd much rather talk about them taking over the world or something, not finding new people and marrying and expanding the world that was supposed to only be between the two of them.

"Who would want to marry Misaki, though?" he says. "Someone does have to like you for marriage to be possible, believe it or not."

"I-I know that, obviously!" His words come out in a flustered rush, almost too fast for Saruhiko to catch. A blush races up Misaki's neck and reddens his cheeks. "I mean, it's not like anyone likes me or anything, but I—I think I like someone."

Saruhiko raises an eyebrow.

"She—You know that brown haired girl from our class? Haruka? I think I kinda maybe like her, just a little."

"Oh." Saruhiko looks down at his PDA. "I heard she likes someone else, though." He's heard no such thing, actually, so he's not even really sure why he says it. Maybe because the thought of Misaki having a crush on some girl makes his heart squeeze just a tad in his chest.

"W-Well, it doesn't matter! I'll—I'll think of something!" Misaki stands up, arms bent at the elbows as he stretches. A yawn escapes his mouth, muffles his words. "A-And when I do, maybe we'll even get married! And I'll get her a ring, and it'll look really cool and—"

He breaks off mid-sentence, mid-yawn. His eyes brighten, and a smile filters through his voice as he says, "Hold on, lemme go grab something." With that, he turns and runs into the next room.

He comes back with something smushed between his fingers, something fuzzy and colorful. When he sits back down, right in front of Saruhiko, the taller boy frowns.

"A pipe cleaner?"

"Yup." Misaki opens his hand, and Saruhiko gets a closer view of the red, slightly bent pipe cleaner, and exactly one googly eye. Seeing it doesn't make him any less confused.

After twisting the pipe cleaner into a vaguely circlish shape, Misaki peels the adhesive off the googly eye before pushing it onto the pipe cleaner, with Saruhiko's eyes silently judging from above. Then, grinning proudly, he holds up his creation, and Saruhiko realizes what it's supposed to be: a childish, poorly made ring.

". . . Is that googly eye supposed to be the diamond?"

"Cool, right?"

"How cheap, Misaki."

"S-Shut up! Does it look like I have diamonds lying around the house or something?!" Misaki waves the ring around as he talks, and Saruhiko's surprised it doesn't fall apart right then, at the mercy of the boy's antics. "It's not supposed to be a _real_ ring—I'm just showin' you what I'd do!"

Much to Saruhiko's surprise, Misaki thrusts out an arm, "Gimme your hand." When Saruhiko does, mostly out of curiousity than anything else, Misaki pushes the ring onto his finger, the little black pupil in the googly eye sliding every which way as he does.

"There! She'd love it, right!"

Saruhiko stares down at his hand, at the pipe cleaner ring and the googly eye diamond, and feels his chest seize for a moment. Finally he says, "It's not even on the correct finger, idiot. It looks stupid on my pinky."

Misaki blushes, embarrassed. "The pipe cleaner was too short, okay?! It wouldn't fit on any other fingers! I mean—it's not like I'd do that for the real thing, stupid Saru—"

He laughs, and tells Misaki to keep dreaming.

 

**~~~**

 

"Hey, Mikoto-san!"

As they leave the candy shop (something Anna had requested, with a pull of Mikoto's sleeve and a pleading look), Misaki hurries to catch up to their King, a brown, candy-filled bag crinkled in his fist.

Saruhiko chooses to lag behind, empty handed unlike the rest of HOMRA, who all seem to have a treat of some kind, except Mikoto. Saruhiko doesn't have much of an appetite, really. He hasn't for awhile now.

Misaki, he sees from afar, is talking animatedly, smiles that used to be reserved for Saruhiko tossed left and right. For the most part, they're aimed towards Mikoto, whose own face is impassive. Judging by the way Mikoto's head is cocked to the side, though, Saruhiko can guess that he's listening at least a little.

"I used to go to this candy shop all the time as a kid, y'know!" Misaki sounds so proud of this, this fact that means almost nothing at all. He lifts his bag up as he walks, swinging it. "It was one of my favorite places."

Saruhiko's tempted to speak up, talk about how Misaki likes the cafe and the game arcade too, places that they went to together as kids. But his lips won't move, won't speak, so he doesn't bother.

He sees Mikoto give a small nod as way of reply, and Misaki takes that as an invitation to go right on chattering.

 _Shut up,_ Saruhiko wants to say, _stop talking already. Or, at least—at least talk to me instead._

But then again, Misaki's long spiels were annoying, so annoying. He's okay without them.

It's only when he sees Misaki reach into his bag and pull out a candy ring that his heart starts to pound faster, though he doesn't know why. The red diamond-shaped candy glints in the sun, flashing in his eyes like a siren's light.

"Here," Saruhiko hears Misaki say to Mikoto, "you want it? I got too many, and you didn't buy anything, right?"

Saruhiko's jaw twitches, and his legs seem to stiffen beneath him. His eyes don't leave Misaki's smiling form or his hand, still holding out the ring. Mikoto's staring in the same direction.

Silently, Mikoto takes the ring, and then Saruhiko's legs stop moving entirely. He doesn't know why this bothers him so much, doesn't know why it feels like he's just lost something vital; all he knows is the sudden tightness in his chest. 

Because of the cigarette occupying Mikoto's mouth, he has no choice but to slide the ring onto his finger, with a low, "Thanks."

Misaki grins, with both corners of his mouth and no hesitation. No glances behind him, no glances to his best friend or anyone else. His gaze—his being—is focused entirely on Mikoto. "No problem at all, Mikoto-san!"

Then Misaki turns, away from Mikoto and towards Kamamoto, but Saruhiko's not looking at him anymore. His eyes are stuck on the ring, oddly enough, stuck like glue.

"Fushimi?"

Totsuka is looking at him concernedly, eyes creased, and Saruhiko can't help but wonder how genuine that concern even is.

Choosing not to answer, he kicks at the pebbles at his feet before moving again. He spins around and walks in the opposite direction, back down the way they came, away from HOMRA.

"Wait, Fushimi," Totsuka comes up to latch a gentle hand around his wrist, "what's wrong?"

He pulls his wrist away, irritated at the unwanted touch, and clicks his tongue. "Nothing, I'm leaving. I've got things to do."

When he's met with silence, he starts walking again, only for Totsuka's voice to finally pierce through his thoughts with deadly precision, "This is about Yata, isn't it?"

It's not entirely Misaki, he wants to say. It's the fire, it's the pretend "family," it's the pointlessness of this power they've come to possess, where it's used for nothing but games and foolishness. It's everything and everyone, HOMRA at its core.

A big part of that, though, is his best friend himself.

Saruhiko grinds his jaw, grinds the truth into dust between his teeth. He's not willing to believe what he's seeing, not yet, but he probably will eventually. He wonders what'll happen then.

"No," he says, and turns away, away from the ring that glitters red red red and the smiles that shine like diamonds. "It's not."

 

**~~~**

 

Misaki hates him.

Saruhiko loves it.

As their colors clash, red and blue sparking in the alleyway, he can see the way the hatred rises in Misaki's every movement; in his fists, in his power. His eyes—which are focused perfectly on Saruhiko—are seething, like they always are when they meet.

"Misakiii," he sings, "you'll have to move faster than that—" His arm whips out, and something metal flies from his sleeve— "If you want to dodge _my_ knives."

The throwing knife burrows itself into the wall beside Misaki, inches from his head. Another one slips into Saruhiko's fingers, and he launches it at the red clansman's leg. Seconds before it can pierce skin, Misaki dodges to the side, skateboard wheels skidding on the cement.

"Fucking traitor," the word—the new name—makes Saruhiko's spine tingle, and the glare he's receiving only makes it better. Misaki's aura flames up behind him, stoked by Saruhiko's sick grin. "You piss me off."

Saruhiko tips his sword to one hand, half of his smirk hidden behind the blade. "Oh, is that so, Mi-sa-kiii? You can't be mad at me just because you're losing."

A snarl warps Misaki's face, and then he's throwing himself at the other, overcome by an anger that's consuming, fiery and alive. A series of hits and punches fall upon Saruhiko; he deflects some of them and returns a few himself, all with a lopsided smile on his face.

When Misaki steps back for a moment, regaining his breath, Saruhiko takes the opportunity to throw another knife—but this knife Misaki tries to catch instead of dodge, and his fingers catch the knife mid-air.

Saruhiko raises an eyebrow, "How nice, Mi-sa-ki. Where'd you learn that little trick, huh? Was it Kusanagi? Or, better yet—how about Mikoto-san?"

Misaki uncurls his fingers, drops the knife and scoffs. There's blood on one of his fingers from catching the edged part of the knife—and, upon closer inspection, Saruhiko realizes the cut runs almost all the way around his bloodied finger.

"Well, would you look at that." Saruhiko comes closer, "My knife left a ring on your finger, didn't it? A ring of blood, how sweet."

Looking at the ring of red glistening on his finger, Misaki's scowl deepens, if that's even possible at this point. "Shut the fuck up, you damn Monkey, you sound _insane_ , you know that, right?"

"Only for you, Mi-sa-kiii." With a swish of fabric and a flick of his wrist, one more knife slinks into his palm. "How about I give myself a matching one? Then we'll look just like newlyweds, wouldn't that be great?"

He wouldn't really do that, but going by the horrified look on Misaki's face, it seems that his rival's believing every word.

"Monkey . . ." His hand crooks into a fist and his aura spikes up the alley's walls; Saruhiko readies his sword in anticipation. "Shut _up_ already!"

Their powers collide, their fists, their weapons; and at this close proximity Saruhiko notices something he didn't quite catch before: of all the fingers it could have been, the cut circles Misaki's pinky finger.

It's not even on the correct finger, he thinks bitterly, and how stupid is that.

 

**~~~**

 

The box, shoved deep into Saruhiko's pocket as if it's merely some spare change, is seriously heavy.

Which doesn't make sense, really, because when he bought it it definitely didn't feel this heavy, so why it feels like a brick today of all days, he hasn't a clue.

Perhaps because he plans on taking it out today, plans on asking a question he never thought he'd ask in a million years.

The blue clansman crosses his legs on the park bench he's seated on, uncrosses them, crosses them again. He clicks his tongue, already bored, when a familiar voice finally reaches out to him.

"Hey, Saruhiko!"

His eyes rise to see Misaki waving at him from across the park, standing on his skateboard with a smile pushing up his lips.

"Took you long enough," says Saruhiko, once he rolls to a stop in front of the bench, "I thought I said to meet me here at three. It's three thirty, idiot."

"A-Ah, sorry about that," Misaki scratches at his neck, "I—I got a little held up. J-Just can't say no to Anna, y'know?"

Saruhiko chooses not to question the blush that's appeared on Misaki's face. "Right," he says, and looks to the side. The little box in his pocket feels even heavier. "Yeah. So."

"Um . . . " Awkwardly, Misaki shifts from foot to foot, clearly anxious about something. "Anyway, why did you want to meet me here? We coulda just talked at home."

They moved back in together more than five years ago, but hearing Misaki say "home" like that, like it's the most normal thing in the world, still makes Saruhiko's heart stutter.

"I just felt like telling you here." He looks over to the empty seat next to him, a silent invitation. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Misaki says quickly, and falls into the seat next to him, close enough for their shoulders to touch. "No, that's not it. I had something to tell you anyway, so this is good. This is great."

"Okay." Saruhiko takes a deep breath once, twice, thrice. His hand drops to his side, to the small bulge in his pocket. "So. We've been together for awhile now, haven't we."

"Yeah," murmurs Misaki. He bumps Saruhiko's shoulder with his own. "I still can't believe I've been dating a Monkey like you for what, five years?"

"Yeah." Saruhiko nods. "So, I've been meaning to ask—"

"I've had something I wanted to say to you, too," interjects Misaki. He turns a little on the bench, facing Saruhiko.

"It's not as if I  _like_  being with you or anything," says Saruhiko, "but I realized recently that I wouldn't be completely opposed to spending the rest of my life with you, so—"

Much to his irritation, Misaki talks over him, presumably not having heard a word he said. "I, um, just wanna get this out right now, before I chicken out or something—Chitose said I should just say it, so here goes. I really like you, you stupid Monkey, and—"

Saruhiko isn't paying attention whatsoever; he's too busy pulling out his box and fumbling with the lid.

Then, speaking fast and low, so as to get it over with, Saruhiko says, "Will you marry me?" at the same time Misaki stammers out, "A-And you should just marry me, got it?!"

Silence, save for Saruhiko's pounding heartbeat. Frowning, he gets a better look at the boy beside him—a boy who, unbelievably, also has a box in his hand, opened to reveal a thin silver ring.

"Did you just—" Saruhiko stops, shakes his head, starts again. "Did you just propose to me?"

Eyes big and wide, Misaki's staring at the ring Saruhiko picked out, a gold ring with a small red ruby in the center. The blush on his face is almost as red as the sweater tied round his waist. "D-Did you just propose to me?!"

Saruhiko's quiet for a moment, thinking, and then he laughs, because he'd imagined many things happening in this moment but this certainly wasn't one of them. "We actually just proposed to each other, didn't we."

A gust of wind sends Misaki's hair into a disarray of red strands, whipping across his face and veiling his stupefied expression. He doesn't bother fixing it, so Saruhiko has to do it for him. When he reaches forward, though, his wrist is caught by clammy fingers.

"Does—Does this mean we're getting married, Saru?" His voice bubbles over with excitement, "Are we really?"

A smile tips a corner of his mouth up, and he reaches for Misaki's box, takes the silver ring and slides it on. Then he takes the ring he picked out, pushes it into the other's hand, "What do you think, Mi-sa-ki?"

When it finally sinks in, Misaki laughs, bright and bubbly and happy; Saruhiko wonders how he ever survived without this laugh. "Hell yeah we are! I," Misaki leans in to kiss him, murmurs into his lips, "I love you so fucking much."

Saruhiko twists a hand into Misaki's hair, curls his fingers in the strands. "I think I love you, too."

"Think?" Flabbergasted, Misaki pulls away, eying him like he's a three-eyed alien or something. "Saru, we're getting married! Anna's already started planning it, for crying out loud! You can't just _think_ you love me, stupid!"

Saruhiko smirks ("Maybe I do love you, then, Mi-sa-ki."), and then Misaki's pulling them both into a hug tight enough to hurt, and Saruhiko thinks maybe everything is alright in the world after all.

 

 


End file.
